


Firsts

by unqueen



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pure pure fluff, Some Cuddling, tummy-rubbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 21:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2040585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unqueen/pseuds/unqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Pulled from old FFN account) Fill for the kink meme. Alice has a tummy-ache and Oz can never leave it alone. Tummy-rubbing, fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> Just to not alarm anyone, this fic is mine --is reposted from my ye olde fanfiction.net account!... which I shall not name because I honestly want to bury that part of my past. My more recent fics are from my "unqueen" account on fanfiction.net. Enjoy!

His chain looks nothing short of strange splayed on the floor like that with her red-white coat and waterfall of dark hair pooling around her. The floor-length window nearby her with open curtains paints over her in rectangle-patterned sunlight. Oz barely sees any skin; her form is so slight that the clothes and hair cover everything.

He pauses at the threshold of her given room and calls out her name. "Alice?" She shifts. He hears a groan and before his mind even blinks he is at her side. There is a brief rustle of fabric as Oz falls on his knees beside her and he cocks his head to the side to gauge any glimpse of her face.

"Alice, what's wrong?"

Finally, one violet eye peeks out from underneath her bangs. "Manservant," Alice croaks weakly and Oz notices her folded hands underneath her stomach. "I think I'm dying."

Dying? Oz blinks and prepares a nervous smile. He ignores the bubbling panic that swells up at the word 'dying'. They are within sanctuary and amongst allies both personal and professional. He won't panic because Alice isn't dying.

"Maybe seaweed-head poisoned me."

He raises one hand to gingerly finger her hair and Alice groans and turns on her side so that her contractor can see her. Oz blinks. Her face is flushed and facial muscles constricted. There are small tears at the corners of her eyes.

He won't panic. He won't. "Gil wouldn't poison you," he shakes his head, brushing some hair out of her face. "Nor would anyone here." Oz assures absolutely. Because he knows how he would respond to that and others do too. He gazes down at Alice with soft green eyes, fingers holding gently on her locks. It's rare that he sees her subdued like this. For a moment he almost forgets that she's in pain when another pained groan, louder this time, startles him into a stiffer position.

"Then why?" Alice asks. "Why does it hurt?"

"Ah. Let me see," Oz reaches one delicate hand to place on her stomach and she lets him, gently sliding her arms away. He presses spread fingers on her person, sliding deliberately across her clothed abdominal area. He hears Alice groan again, making him grimace and wonder for a second if he should retract his hand. However, when his subconscious reaction of increasing pressure against her hips manages to elicit a sound more appeased, he casts that thought away. Next thing Oz knows he is kneeling closer, in a more stable position and rubbing smooth, circular motions over her lower belly.

"This timid Alice is rare," he whispers so low he knows she won't hear him. Oz smiles as Alice sounds more satisfied. He suggests they move to the bed. "You'll be more comfortable there. I don't know why you're on the floor in the first place, Alice. Stomachaches should be shooed away with rest," he chuckles. Alice quietly nods and compliments him on his adequate servitude as he gently helps her to the bedstead. Not even normal volume, he thinks, wondering how much discomfort she felt. The pressure of his hand never leaves her stomach as he tries his best to continue the circular motions while he moves her along, step against step, however awkwardly.

The mattress squashes under the weight of a reclined Alice and Oz who makes himself comfortable beside her.

"What did you eat?" Oz asks her, briefly noting that his fingers would do a better job without so many barriers. "I'm going to take off your coat," he warns her before deftly unbuttoning the checkered front. Alice wordlessly assists him in removing it. Casting the article away to some further corner of the sizeable bed he repeats, kneading away over her white-shirted belly. "What did you eat?"

"Drank," Alice corrects. "The clown made me eat some of that disgusting tree monster and seaweed-head passed me the water when I kept spitting it out. He said it was because I looked stupid doing that."

That earns another small chuckle from the adolescent young man. "You mean broccoli?" he asks and Alice nods, the most adorable pout is etched on her face. And in a kind of furtive desire, he wants to tell her to keep it on more often because it makes her look every bit like the adorable rabbit-girl she is. He has the sense to refrain however, opting to simply shake his head.

"So it was water?"

"I brought the container here and drank. The taste wouldn't go away."

"You downed it all really quickly, didn't you?" No doubt knowing her. Now that he could pay attention to things other than Alice, Oz could spy the empty pitcher abandoned on the floor below laying ten feet away. Not far from the window by which he'd found her. He couldn't see a drop in it.

"Mmm…" She moves her head weakly, looking up at him. "You're good, Oz," she gestures down at his hand. "At this."

The urge to smile never leaves him. "When we were little, whenever Ada got stomachaches I'd rub her tummy."

That's when Alice suddenly gapes at him in affront. "So I'm not your first?" And Oz can't help it, he laughs. Though it only serves to make the girl more upset. "Hey!" she looks away. "I don't know what's so funny, but this doesn't feel as nice anymore because you've done it with other girls."

His chain is just set today on making him laugh more and more. Nonetheless, Oz somehow manages to stifle it there. "Ada is my sister; you have one too you know," he coughs into one hand and raises his eyebrows defensively at her glare. "Even if you don't exactly get along and we do. Just imagine the difference."

His words somewhat appease her ruffled temper as her gaze softens again, though her forehead remains constricted with her discomfort. He gently places a second hand on her stomach, mirroring the patterns of its forerunner. Content eyes droop and slide over her petite form. To her flushed face. Whenever he looks her over he remembers how, standing together she always makes him feel tall, makes him almost forget about his daily and ritualistic dosage of milk to forward a goal of… looking better in trousers than in a pair of shorts.

Before Oz knows it he finds himself leaning his head down to hers, his forehead brushing against hers a moment, lingering near the warmth of her breath with his own. He lifts back his head, to behold her familiar, and pleasing face.

She looks up at him quizzically. He beams down at her.

Swiftly, one hand of his slaps down beside her head and his jade eyes lock with her mauve ones. "You know," Oz starts in a low voice. "You're the first girl I've done this to who's not my sister." If he's honest, his own actions puzzle him a little sometimes. But that's never stopped him and it doesn't now.

The dark-haired girl blinks up at him owlishly. "Really?" And her face is a childlike surprise. Mirth dances in Oz's eyes. All of a sudden Alice's arms swoop around him without any warning and pull down. He yelps as she pulls him down on top of her with a small noise. Their foreheads knock briefly as wayward limbs drape around her in search for some support as he lands.

On top of his chain, Oz manages to slowly raise his head up and stare down at her. Alice's grimaces of pain and knotted forehead are nonexistent by now.

"What else am I first in?" she asks wiggling underneath him as if their pose is the most natural thing in the world. Oz ignores the blush on his face and looks at Alice's serious one which demands an answer.

"Well," he tries to think. She's a lot of firsts. "You're my first cuddle today," he says. And then slowly, to his own surprise, he brings his arms around her completely, encircling her torso and thus solidifying their position. She feels so nice in his arms and Oz excuses himself saying they were in that position already anyways. She started it.

Alice loops her arms around his neck and asks, "What else?" and he answers her again and again as many times as she likes. You're my first chain; the first person to bite me; my first ever master…that last one comes out between chortles.

He doesn't tell her that she's not his first kiss, not his first crush, and not his first fleeting touch beyond the points of innocence. It doesn't matter anyways because she's firsts of so much more, first in touches that actually meant something, in a kiss which saved his life, saved him from the lonely tomb that was his life until she came around.

Her eyes are wide and in awe. "Can I be first in even more things?" Alice asks again shining with a wonder unique to her that it spreads a soft smile all across Oz's features as he answers her.

"Everything, Alice."


End file.
